You Can Never Die
by Love my Loony
Summary: As Master of Death, Harry can never truly die. But nor can he be immortal. What does Death do? Decisions, decisions. Oh, right! Lets make his life hell by throwing into a new one every time! Master of Death Harry! Powerful Harry! Clever Harry!
1. Rebirth

Ninety-year-old Harry Potter moved with a grace that belied his age. The invisibility cloak flowed smoothly off his shoulders, the elder wand was hidden in a wand holster up the sleeve of his robe and the stone was on a chain down his neck. Soon after the Hogwarts battle, he had discovered that the Deathly Hallows were not so easily forsaken.

Twenty years later came the bad news; Grindelwald had escaped Numengard. When Harry had turned eighty-seven, he had laid siege to Hogwarts, with Harry inside it. Half the wizarding world had been inside Hogwarts to celebrate the anniversary of the fall of Lord Voldemort. Now, Amelia Bones, the Minister of Magic was dead, as were Minerva and Flitwick. Harry's godson was fighting on the front line to avenge Ginny's death.

Harry swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat whenever he thought Ginny and rolled his right shoulder. He smiled grimly. Grindelwald was not getting Hogwarts while there was a breath in his body.

Harry once more thanked whatever deities there were for his experience in the wild during his seventh year. That, combined with his Auror training had warned of someone entering his room. Eleven years on the wrong side of the century, his power was still enough to give most attackers pause. _This lot is good._ He thought as he waited with his hand on the Elder Wand. He tried to read the body language of the one with a wand. _He's acting on the assumption that I'm awake and watching. So he's acting extra casual, which means he's going to attack about… now!_ He rolled of his bed and came up kneeling as the wall was decimated by the sickly green curse. He used and overpowered diffindo to cut through the first two attackers and transfigured the third's heart into a bullet. He scanned the room, alert for more threats, then flipped to his feet as he realized there was a draught hitting his back. "Grindelwald." He said calmly, turning around and locking eyes with the now withered wizard. He just smiled, showing his sharp canines. "Harry Potter." He responded. "I do not suppose you would give me the Deathly Hallows without a duel?" Harry blinked lazily and slid gracefully into dueling position. I hope I'm not rusty. He thought grimly. Then the fight began.

Drawn by the lights and the sounds of things exploding, the Nazis– Grindelwald's version of a joke- and the Allies- the wizarding world's response to the joke- watched in amazement as their leaders exchanged spells in a duel that eclipsed Dumbledore's legendary duel. Harry waited as they traded spells-what they were doing now was more for intimidation and show- hoping that the long years in prison would make Grindelwald make the same mistake he hoped he would make. And he did. Prison had made Grindelwald aggressive, and that same aggression made his lose his grip on his wand as Harry used a rather strong summoning spell. Before he could do wandless magic, Harry killed him.

The Nazis fled as the Allies cheered- but not before one shot a spell at Harry's turned back. One that was the same color as his eyes. "Harry!" Teddy called out in despair, and he turned around just as it struck his chest. He slumped to the ground, unmoving.

As before, Harry awoke completely naked, and as before, he wished for his clothes and they came. What was different was the location. Rather than the King's Cross-Station, he woke on the grassy floor of the forest outside their tent in seventh year. "Hello, Harry." Said a familiar voice. He tensed as it awoke every bad memory he had had in his life. "Death." He said, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice. "Why do you look like Bellatrix Lestrange?" Death was silent for a while before answering. "Because," she said at last, "She was the only person whom you hated with all your heart." She held out a hand to him. "We need to talk."

They sat on a grassy hillock, both of them brooding over the same issue. "So basically," Harry said carefully. "I can't be immortal, but I can't die either, so I have to be reborn." Death nodded. "You are the master of Death. I cannot harm you in any way." Harry considered thoughtfully, his forty year old body muscled and lithe. "Can I choose which life I go to?" he asked carefully. It sounded like a business deal, and he hated such things. Long years and hard battles had made him wary of all things good and bad. Death shook her head empathetically, her curly hair tickling Harry's neck. He twitched in annoyance. "I choose that, but you get to keep all your memories and your present power. And I swear to only send you to places which will benefit you." She promised. She bowed her head. "I will even give you this; you will find love in each of your lives." She sounded immeasurably sad.. Then her lips quirked. "I'll even make you male in most of your lives." She regarded him carefully. "So, do you accept?" Harry smiled the smile that reminded people that he was the last marauder, son of one, godson of another and murderer of a third. "Do I have a choice?"

Lestrange led him to a clearing with runes of death, rebirth, and mastership on them; runes every other person used to try and become immortal. There was just one difference: in the center was inscribed the sign of the Deathly Hallows. Harry and Death took up positions facing each other, and Harry was acutely aware of the intimacy of the position. He placed the Hallows in their designated positions, and nearly stumbled when the whole rune series lit up like a lamp. Death curtsied to him. "Fare well, milord." She said, before kissing him on the lips. And then he was gone.

When he awoke, he was alone in a slightly cramped space in a most uncomfortable position. _I'm in the womb._ He didn't know why, but he had always thought that he would regain his memories upon his birth. Perhaps it was just as well. Now he could try and figure out where he was and what kind of family he had. Straightening out with difficulty, he pressed his ear against the wall. He waited for over an hour, but he had the patience of a predator. Finally he heard what he had been waiting for: the sound of footsteps. "What are you doing?" he heard a voice practically scream in rage. He was shocked to hear that it sounded vaguely middle-eastern. The next sound was the sharp crack of a slap, and Harry felt rage building within him. The voice continued, half-mad with anger. "Do you want to get the child killed? The heir to the line of Slytherin?" The voice dropped to a low, menacing whisper. "Listen, _slave._ " He said contemptuously and Harry's rage increased further. "You should be grateful that you're my concubine and not dead. It is an _honor_ ," he hissed with clenched teeth. "To be chosen to be the first fresh blood injected into Slytherin's line for millennia!" The woman spoke up for the first time. "Yes master." And Harry was shocked not just by her servility, but her clearly English accent. "I'm sorry master." She was flung across the room, and something cracked inside her. Harry watched, seething, as a bone pierced her womb, missed his head by a millimeter and pierced her skin. "Bear me a male heir," The voice said softly. "And you will be kept alive to bear a spare. Fail, and then…" his words hung menacingly in the air after he left.

Shocked at his abrupt departure, Harry realized that the voice did not know that her rib had broken. He placed his one hand on the bone and let his power flow into it. "Heal." He whispered, not knowing any charm to heal bones. His mother gave a gasp as her bone slid inside in perfect place and clicked into position. Then he placed his hand on the edge of the gaping tear in the womb and the skin. Just enough that his mother could see the tips of his fingers, and he silently healed all her hurts. He joined her skin and sucked up all her pain; the pain from the slap, the slavery and the constant abuse. He took all her humiliation, all her despair, and gave her joy and contentment as he made her a physical manifestation of a Patronus, something he had theorized was possible, but had never done before. But she had endured so much for him; he decided he might as well take some of the burden, if only for a short while. Then he absorbed the pain.

It took all of Harry's considerable will power and equally considerable magic to not scream aloud at the pain that had entered him at that point. Over a lifetime of a hundred and eleven years he had been held under the Cruciatus more times than any other single person and had built up a resistance to it similar to that of the Imperius. The pain that came to him now however, was the physical, mental and emotional pain of too many years of rape, slavery and humiliation combined. More important than that to Harry, however, was that he had also got her memories; all the humiliating and bad memories of her life. He saw how she was the youngest of four sisters, how she had been captured at the age of seven and used as a fuck toy, and how she could escape but didn't want to because of her child. And with each passing memory Harry's rage grew, until only his mother's steady, calm breathing kept him in control. He also learnt that his father wanted to name him Salazar.

Four months passed by quickly, and though his sorry excuse for a father restrained himself on account of the baby, Harry still used Legilimency to soothe his mother's spirit every time she was insulted or hit by him. He realized the day of his birth had come when the muscle walls began to contract and his mother began to whimper and shriek. Not wanting to cause his mother any further pain, he hastily used a charm he had learnt during his travels - engorgio revelion – literally, engorge without showing. It increased the size of an object from the inside. That done, he quickly slid out into the open air, and was immediately picked up. He looked up and saw his father for the first time and took an immediate dislike to him. He was not particularly ugly, but there was a measure of meanness in his eyes that Harry didn't like. His mother, on the other hand… she was beautiful. Sure, he had seen her in her own memories, but she had appeared at her worst at those points. Another thing that surprised Harry was her age. She looked like she could be at oldest, ten. That should have made sense, considering that she was captured very young, but it still shocked him. At that moment, she looked probably the happiest she had been since the age of seven. She was sweaty, pale, tired and her ribs were clearly outlined through the flimsy rags; in a way she reminded Harry of himself when he was with the Dursley's. And she looked radiant.

It was at that moment that he realized that he had no idea what to do. He had a general plan, sure, but he hadn't really worked on the finer details. After a deliberation of about a millisecond, he decided to come in with a bang. After all, go big or go home, right?

He placed a small hand on his mother's forehead and sent out the magical equivalent of a calming draught and healing potion. He might have overpowered the spells a bit, because next thing he knew, not only were her injuries healed, her hair was glossier, her ribs filled out about a centimeter and she grew an inch in height. Then she promptly fell asleep, but not the nightmare filled sleep she usually had. It was likely the best sleep she had had in her life.

Harry tried to swear as his _father_ promptly dropped him in surprise, only to find an annoying limitation of having no teeth. He cast a cushioning charm on the floor, knowing that even if he hit it from four feet, it would be an ignoble end to the first rebirth of Harry Potter. He pushed the man's slack hand aside and walked forward on his own, before realizing that he shouldn't know how to walk.

Then the man - that was what he had decided to call him – laughed heartily. "Proud and powerful, as befits a son of mine! You are the stag of the family – you are Orein Slytherin, heir to the houses of Slytherin and Peverell!"


	2. A New Life

**I do not own Harry Potter, or I would be spending the rest of my life naked in a Jacuzzi with a waterproof computer and a personal** ** _man_** **servant. (Cue to blush and giggle.)**

 **In this, magical women have adapted (through magic) to mature at a very young age. Also, this is god-like Harry and mother-son slash. Harry is slowly forgetting his old life (death dulls old memories) and is in a parallel universe where everything is the same except for what he changes. Original storyline of J.K. Rowling remains same.**

 **A/N-A/N**

Orein sat on his cot, watching amusedly as the cluster of house elves reacted to Orein's presence-or rather, the presence of his abnormally strong magic which had in no way been reduced in death. He rather suspected that Death had given his magic a small boost (by her standards), though her reasons were a mystery. His age and wisdom may have increased, but as always, women remained an enigma.

Orein inspected his three-year-old body in a mirror and was pleased with what he saw. The greatest part of this happiness was his height. In his first life, he had been disturbingly short, and he much preferred this new status. Smooth light brown skin, black hair that was more like Sirius' than his won and of course emerald green eyes. He was beginning to like this new life.

Not that it was all sunshine. The main problem in his life was the rest of his life. For three years, that _man_ had given his concubine a beak, and Orein began to hope that maybe, just maybe, he was improving. Then on his third birthday, he had begun again. When Orein's mother, softened by the interim break, collapsed midway with a weak moan, the man swore furiously and backhanded her across the face so hard that Orein heard the clear _snap_ of bone from the floor above. Then he threw her out for the jackals.

Later in the night, Orein crept outside, scaring the first of the canines who had emerged from the forest and levitated his mother onto his bed. Wandless healing spells exhausted him, but a skull fracture could not go untreated. Add that to the numerous other injuries, which she had sustained, and fatigue was certain, which made the margin for error much greater. Frowning in concentration, he healed all of them one by one, sucking on a sweet after each one. After an exhausting hour, he made her as comfortable as he could and waited for her to wake up.

As he waited, he watched her and realized that she was much younger than his previous estimation; probably about eight. The lines around her eyes and the inherent sadness in her seemed to project her as older. But here, asleep, far from the harsh world, the lines and marks faded until she looked like what she could have been-: an innocent child. Not that her sleep was peaceful. Far from it. He saw her flail in cold sweat, giving low whimpers, and he surmised that he would not have to wait long. He was right. Within fifteen minutes, she awoke with a gasp and looked at Harry in fear. Seeing who it was, she visibly relaxed and clambered across the bed to him. She laid her head in his lap. She seemed to find comfort in his presence, possibly because he had saved her life several times over.

He lay down and went to sleep as well.

Orein awoke at the crack of dawn and found himself unable to move with a weight on his chest. He stopped breathing for a second, before he realized that he had not, as he had assumed, been petrified, but when they were asleep, his mother had crawled onto his chest to sleep. He was enraged at how light she was; with his eyes closed, he would have assumed that a cat had jumped on his chest.

As the first light came through the windows, a ray of sunshine illuminated her face, giving it an almost holy aura, and in that moment he cursed his father's name for trying to destroy something so beautiful. She stirred slowly and opened her eyes, finding herself gazing into his emerald orbs. Her lips parted and a small sigh escaped her.

She belonged to an old family which traced its heritage all the way back to Merlin itself, but over the years their great magic had dissipated until they were weaker than most wizarding families. At this time of weakness, raiders from the deserts had come, plundering and looting all that they saw. She would have died too, along with her sisters, had it not been for a high-ranking chieftain amongst them who had taken a fancy to the young girl. Spared from death, she had at first been grateful, but it soon turned to horror as she learnt what he demanded of her. Her hate for him had grown beyond all bounds, but when her son was born, she had been joyous. It mattered not that he was the son of one of the cruelest men alive; she would protect from all dangers and harm. And then it had started again.

When he had hit her, she knew that her skull was broken, even though it did not hurt, she knew she was going to die. As she lay among the rubbish, waiting to be eaten by the hounds, her only regret was that she would not be able to protect her son; though she had to admit, he had proven himself more than capable of taking care both of himself and of others. Then when the hyenas retreated and she started floating, she knew _he_ had come to save her.

She did not know at what point of the journey she had fainted at, but when she woke, her wounds had been healed and she was resting comfortably next to Orein. She could not find the strength within herself to take care of him, before she realized that he was the one taking care of her. Elder she may have been, if only by three years, but he was the dependable adult there. She went to sleep in his lap.

She woke due to a sunray hitting her face, but it was not the abrupt awakening that she had become accustomed to for four years. There was warmth all around her and she felt refreshed, she woke lazily dreamily, and opened her eyes to remember where she was. And she had found herself gazing into Orein's emerald eyes, as deep as a still lake in the mountains. As she gazed, pride stirred within her, but also something else, something that warmed her heart and clouded her mind. She lay back down on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

Despite almost a day of continuous rest, She still did not have the energy to get up from the bed. When Orein put a hand on her back, he was surprised to feel how tense her muscles were, then froze when they got even tenser. "What's the matter?" he asked cautiously, when she began to shudder uncontrollably. She buried her face in Orein's chest and sobbed softly. "I'm pregnant." She choked in between the tears. "Seven years old, and I'm already pregnant twice." She whispered. Orein ran a hand over her forehead and through her hair, and she calmed at the touch. He once again placed a hand on her back, and this time was not at all surprised to find her tenser than before.

He carefully took off the rags that she wore as clothes and laid her down on her stomach on the bed. He started massaging her feet, and was surprised at the sheer number of tense muscle there-until then, he had not known it was possible to have tense muscles in feet. From her feet he moved on to her calves, pressing her soft skin, and from there to her buttocks made red because of too many beatings, rolling them round and kneading them with his knuckles. She gave a little fluttering sigh of contentment. He paid special attention to her back, making sure there was not a single tense muscle before moving on to the nape of her neck. He treated her as he would treat an injured doe, softly, calmly, without any sudden movements. When he reached down to pick her up, she did not resist; on the contrary, she actually helped him, paying no heed to the fact that she was naked.

No matter how much he tried to be unaffected, he could not help but notice that for her age, she had very full breasts. If they had bra sizes-or even bras- in this age, he guessed she would be a large B cup, maybe a C. She had a flat stomach but was not painfully starved anymore, and her nipples were rosy and stood to attention. His thumb brushed across them for a second and She let out a low moan. He hurriedly moved on.

When he was done with the massage, Orein picked up her, bridal-style, and carried her to the bathroom, where a steaming hot fragrant bath awaited her. She gave a sigh of contentment and let Orein take over as he rubbed and soothed her exhausted muscles. Then, when he deemed her sufficiently relaxed, he carried her back to the bedroom and dressed her in some his clothes. Fortunately, in that era, men's and women's was similar. To make up for all the food she had missed, he spoon-fed her both her own supper and his over the course of two hours. They both snuggled in bed.

Over the next seven months, Orein's life fell into a rhythm that, even by his standards, was strange. Every morning he fed her breakfast from the table, as she leaned on his shoulder, spending the rest of his morning learning parseltongue magic from that man. He took his afternoons in the library, learning everything he could from the generations of books that lay there on the shelves. He was horrified at the material that _man_ kept. Wards and runes of binding and pain, rituals of slavery, entire shelves on nothing but spells of fear. Among the worst was a blood ritual that made the subject a complete and utter slave. The only thing that kept Orein from sick was the knowledge that it required the free will of the subject. That was what made this ritual unique. Apart from that, all that was needed was a little blood and a few words. Orein had excused himself from the library that day.

On the first day, he also named his mother. He decided on Merlyn as appropriate for the first female name in magical communities in all history.

Another thing that Orein discovered was that wands had not been invented. At the age of four, he became the first wand crafter ever. By the time he was six, he had become proficient at both wand less magic and wand crafting.

One afternoon, as he opened the door of his room, he became almost immediately aware of the shrieking, and his eyes fell on Merlyn in labor. He immediately rushed over to her side and sent the same in infusion of spells he had sent her on his birth. Within minutes he found himself holding a solemnly giggling baby that gazed at him, gurgling happily. He gazed at it in bewilderment, when suddenly his heart swelled with pride and happiness. He had a brother. A brother! He handed him over to his mother. "Salazar Merlyn Slytherin," he choked out. "Welcome to this world."

He looked at Merlyn and saw that she looked as happy as he did, her eyes filled with tears. She carefully kept Salazar on the bed and knelt at Orein's feet. She had stabbed her wrist with her dagger before he realized what she was doing. " I hereby pledge my body, soul, magic and life to Orein Slytherin. So I have said it, so mote it be." Orein in the meanwhile was panicked. _What the freak is she thinking?_ "I hereby accept the pledge of Merlyn Slytherin. So I have said it, so mote it be." He said on the spur of the moment. A ball of golden-white light went from Merlyn into Orein. He immediately felt more powerful, like there was something that would obey his every beck and call, like he only needed to wish it and it would be obeyed.

He hated it.

To distract himself from the immediate and pressing problem, he picked up little Salazar and drew circles on his belly. The baby laughed happily and gurgled at Orein. _He is already getting teeth._ Orein noticed absently. _Magic really is a wonderful and terrible thing._

Merlyn sometimes wondered whether Orein knew just how handsome and charming he had already become. Dark skin, a lean, wiry body and eyes so bright and warm they practically glowed at night; it was hard not to have fantasies about him. At to that his natural kindness and intelligence and he was possibly the best husband possible for any single-or married-woman. She wondered what he would like her to do now that she was his slave. She didn't have much experience with men, but what she did know was you could get anything out of them with sexual favors. Maybe she should quit wearing clothes around him? Or maybe crawl on her hands and knees at his feet? She just shrugged to herself. She would have to try everything.

Orein awoke the next morning full to resolve to confront Merlyn about her decision. His resolve wavered when he saw just where Merlyn had been sleeping, which was, incidentally on the floor near the foot of his bed. She awoke a few seconds after him, and her face lit up with sheer happiness when he saw that he was looking at her. Her joy was replaced by an innocent, wide-eyed curiosity as he continued to stare at her. "I…is something wrong, master?" she asked hesitantly. Orein just massaged his forehead wearily. "Why were you sleeping on the floor?" he asked faintly, as if he really didn't want to hear the answer. "Because you are my master." She explained, as if that was obvious. "Well, why didn't you wake me, and ask if you could sleep on the cot?" he demanded. "Because" she repeated "You are my master, my lord." Orein face-palmed. "Why don't you take a bath?" he suggested. "And we'll talk about this afterwards?"

When Merlyn returned, Orein was lying on the cot staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. When he heard the door open, he lifted his head and immediately let it fall again. "Merlyn." He said. "I'm going to ask you two questions, and I don't want you to answer either of them with 'Because you are my master.' Got it?" he asked. She blinked in affirmative. He took a deep breath. "First. Why are you calling me 'my lord' or 'master'?" Merlyn's eyes grew sad. "Don't you like the title?" she asked. Orein shook his head. "Not really, no." He admitted. Merlyn took on a slightly pouty look. "Then what-?"she began, sniffing. "Just Orein is fine." He said hastily. "Second question." He continued. "Why are you not wearing any clothes?"

 **A/N-A/N**

 **Sorry for the irregular and really long updates. I'm afraid this will continue (I'm not really supposed to be on this.) I will do my best. This is also my first fic, so please, advise, do not bash. I'm also soon going to start another fic, 'Emerald Flower'. I'm trying to get my chapters to be longer, but this may take some time.**


	3. The meeting

**Do not own Harry Potter and never will. Probably.**

 **A/N-A/N**

Orein sat on his bed and stared at Merlyn, who was sitting cross legged at his feet and leaning casually on his thigh. "What do you mean, you have to crawl behind me?" he asked, horrified. "I wouldn't wish that on _anyone._ " Merlyn smiled sleepily. "Orein." She said softly. "Haven't you learnt anything from this house? The whole world is like this." Orein put his head in his hands. "No." He muttered. "No, no, _no_." Merlyn's eyes gleamed in mischief. "Oh, there's more." She said mischievously. "Clothing is a very important status symbol. The less clothes I wear the higher your status, but I shouldn't be naked or it means that you're willing to sell me for money." Orein let out a long suffering groan. "Are you sure you don't mind?" he asked. Merlyn just laughed and cupped his face with her hand. _He probably still doesn't know how handsome he is._ She mused. _He didn't know at two and doesn't know at twenty._ "Orein." She said gently. "If I did mind, I wouldn't have mentioned it." Orein got up slowly, as did Merlyn. "Why don't you wear a golden collar and a leash as well?" he asked sarcastically. Merlyn stared at him in surprise. "Oh, that's necessary!" she cried. "Did you really think it wasn't?" Orein face-palmed and walked on. Merlyn stared at his retreating back and unconsciously licked her lips.

Orein and Salazar walked slowly side-by-side, both of them carrying small backpacks. Merlyn crawled behind on a golden chain attached to Orein's wrist. Their faces displayed none of their anguish. They were being observed very closely and with a good deal of hatred by a man and two women who were standing clustered around a fruit seller. As the brothers rounded a corner, they apparently came to a mutual agreement and stopped both Salazar and Orein.

"Excuse me." Said the man politely, as he seemed to be the only one capable of doing so; the women were glaring at them with thunderous faces. "We understand that it is your custom, but would you mind not-erm-disrespecting- your women so much?" Orein stared at him until he turned away, discomfited by his intense green stare. "let me see whether I understand you correctly." He said slowly. "You object to me, Orein James Slytherin, treating my slaves the way I wish to?" The other man raised his eyebrows; he had courage all right, though if he was who Orein suspected he was then that judgment was well founded. "Yes." He said simply. Orein subjected him to another long scrutiny. "This kind of talk is better done in private." Orein said harshly.

The moment they were in a small private room, Orein turned to Merlyn and pulled her to her feet. "Are you all right? Any injuries? Anything wrong?" he asked in a single breath. Merlyn laughed and pulled on hooded robe. "Seriously, Orein." She said amusedly. I've told you before- I'll be fine. After all, I was the one who suggested this." Orein wrung his hands. "Yes, but I still don't like it." He complained. She turned to see the trio looking at them with identical dropped jaws. Salazar burst out into laughter at their near-comical expressions.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Merlyn said, shaking out her hair. She extended a hand. "I'm Merlyn, Merlyn Slytherin, I suppose. And you are?" The trio just continued to stare, so Orein stepped in for them. "Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff." Their jaws dropped once more as they turned to stare at Orein. "I guess that means I'm right." He said nonchalantly. "You didn't even want to do any of that?" the taller woman choked out. Orein grimaced. "Nowhere near it." He spat. "But my hand was forced." "You act well." Was all the other woman managed. "That's not that sad part." Said Orein. "The sad part is that I was forced to act well." This time everyone, including Merlyn and Salazar stared at him curiously.

Orein seemed to awaken from a reverie and noticed all the people staring at him. "Well!" he exclaimed. "This is jolly! Where should we eat?"

Orein, Salazar, Godric, Helga and Rowena sat at table in a restaurant. The waiter who brought them their food kept shooting lecherous looks at Helga and Rowena, and once went as far to grope Helga's breast. That was when she broke her wrist.

"Do we have to eat here?" complained Rowena. Salazar shrugged. "It's the same everywhere." He said. "Just be glad he didn't go any further."

The next waiter who came kept his distance from everyone, just in case, and the rest of the meal passed in peace.

The six of them decided to leave everything-: the town, the civilization and take a trip through the jungle. Orein carried nothing but his wands, the Stone and the Cloak. Salazar and Merlyn brought the wands Orein had made for them, while the others brought a stone of stored magic each -: another thing that Orein did not have in his original timeline. Not that they were much use against the bandits. "We're shit at magic!" yelled Godric with his back to Orein's. All six of them were standing in a circle with h=their backs to each other. Then Salazar, Orein and Merlyn simultaneously raised their wands and blew the bandits out of existence.

The turned around to find the other trio staring at their wands in awe. "I have got to get me one of those." Whispered Godric.

 **A/N- A/N**

 **I'm really sorry, I keep promising the chapters will get longer but I can never make them longer. I'll try my best but I'm afraid it will probably take a while. Also sorry for the irregular updates. I have also posted a few new stories. Don't read if you are fem!dom or feminist. Turns out I'm a fem! Sub. Who would have guessed?**


End file.
